


On the other side

by obfuscatedheart



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Alpha Hannibal Lecter, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alpha/Omega, Beltane, M/M, Mating Bond, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Omega Will Graham
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-06
Updated: 2019-06-06
Packaged: 2020-04-11 15:10:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,153
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19112218
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/obfuscatedheart/pseuds/obfuscatedheart
Summary: After a particularly bad winter Will, as the only male omega, is chosen as the annual sacrifice to the beast on the hill. But the beast is nothing like he imagined and offers him a choice to run away with him.





	On the other side

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to mferret9 who has created the stunning art for this piece. You can find her post here: [ Tumblr Link](https://mferret9.tumblr.com/post/185397688736/hannigram-abo-big-bang-on-the-other-side)
> 
> Thank you vix for the beta reading

Thick swathes of flowers have been braided into a crown in his hair. He has been bathed, oiled in neutral scents and then clothed in silks. It had been a particularly bad year and he knew that they had been saving him till now for that reason.

Will doesn’t resent his village, not for this, as he knows how tough the year had been. He sees it in his pack of dogs who are emaciated, even though Will had given them as much of his food as he could. Even Will has been stripped off the fat that had lingered from his childhood, in spite of the village having been careful to keep him fed better than most. 

He feels a hand on his shoulder and he looks up at the arm; it’s Jack. The pain is etched onto his face, and Will knows that this had been a decision that had not been easily made. But, Will also knows that Jack is nothing if not dogged when it comes to looking after the village.

“Not long now.” Jack says slowly and Will nods. “Let us hope that the gods will look upon us favourably.”

Will sighs and nods, “I’m sure they will be honoured tonight.” 

Jack smiles at him, and Will can see the relief in his eyes. As the only male omega in their village, Will had known this moment would come if the weather didn’t improve. As a rare species, and unmated to date, he knew this was coming. Until now, his status had never been an issue to the village; he had been treated mostly equally, except the way that certain alphas would skulk around his house. A notable example of this is Frederick Chilton, a slimy man who is only interested in Will as a status symbol as the only male omega for 100s of miles surrounding them. Will had turned him down at every opportunity, as he made every single one of Will’s senses stand on end in warning.

After long moments Jack nods once and says, “it’s time.”

Will gets to his feet awkwardly. The long stretches of silk had twisted around his legs almost tripping him over. He is led to the mirror by Jack and he almost doesn’t recognise himself in the mirror. His eyes are clear and the bluebells that have, amongst roses and daisies, been braided into his hair make them stand out. The silks barely cover him, and he looks indecent.

“You’ll be the perfect offering for this year. There is no reason He will deny you.” Jack says, sounding proud and hopeful in equal measures.

He smiles slightly and then leads Will out of the house and into the village square, the entire village is gathered. He can see a mixture of delight and sadness in the faces that look back at him. Frederick is leering at him and Will flushes in embarrassment and disgust at the look. Beverley joins Jack and places a hand on his other shoulder and he is glad for her company. She had been his closest and only friend growing up. And he knows he will miss her dearly, and she him. They had spent their youth making fun of omegas and both hoped that they would not present as such. Will had, as so often in his life, not been lucky in the slightest and presented as an omega after a miserable first heat. Even in spite of this, Beverley had stuck by him all this time.

There is an undercurrent of noise in the group and then a hush falls as Jack draws up to his full height. “Come, friends and family. It is time for our annual offering to the gods.” Jack says, and his voice carries through the square, and there is so much alpha dripping in the voice that Will has to fight the instinct to not drop to his knees.

The slow procession starts with Jack and Beverley at his shoulders as they gently lead him through the square past the entirety of the village. There is a drum beat that is constant as they move past everyone and it is odd to be on this side of the procession. After long moments, they reach the edge of the hill. The beat increases in volume and speed, and with each step that Will takes closer and closer to the altar at the top of the hill the beat feels like his heart is outside his body.

The beat crests and stops when Will sits on the stone altar. It’s cold, even in spite of the warm late spring air. It pebbles his skin, as he’s not dressed appropriately. Once he is seated, Jack looks down the hill at the gathered congregation, he takes a deep breath before launching into the standard speech.

“Since our ancestors settled in the foot of these hills, we have kept the tradition of offering an unmated omega to the gods when the crops fail us.” Jack pauses and looks around the rapt faces. “This year, after a particularly bad harvest, we offer our only male omega, Will Graham, to appease the gods.” Will can sense the excitement in the entire group, except his and Beverley’s despair. He doesn’t want this to happen, but he knows that it is difficult to break with tradition, and he knows how comfortable it is to blame a non-existent deity. Jack turns to Will and slowly begins to twist the ropes that are on the altar around his ankles. He seems to be chanting something under his breath, which Will cannot make out. When he thinks back on previous ceremonies, he remembers what it is that is said. Jack is invoking the spirit of the beast on the hill, as representative of the gods.

The knots around his ankles are tight, and there is no slack for him to move anywhere. Jack considers him for long moments before directing his speech at Will, “do you consent to be taken by the beast on the hill as one of the gods?” Will swallows around the lump in his throat before nodding his assent, Jack seems relieved at the answer. The offering was always supposed to be willing, but in his entire life Will has never known anyone to ever refuse; there is too much pressure on the sacrifice to act on behalf of the village.

Everything in Will is screaming to take the knife that is lying on the altar and cut off the ropes at his ankles, attack Jack and flee, but the hopeful looks in everyone’s eyes means that Will slowly lies back on the cold slab. Jack thanks him as he slowly winds other pieces of ropes around Will’s wrists before tying them securely. The material of the ropes is already beginning to chafe his skin. 

Jack straightens to his full height before shouting at the sky in his booming voice. “O Gods, we beseech grant us a fruitful harvest this year in exchange for this omega. Take this willing sacrifice and bless us.”

There is a slight echo before everything falls silent. After long moments, Jack gathers the congregation and leads them back to the village. Beverley stays longer than everyone else. She is sobbing. Will can’t help it, he begins to cry too. She bends over him and hugs him as much as possible. Pressing a kiss to his forehead, she whispers a goodbye before she too leaves Will.

He is alone on the altar. Completely alone, with not even the distant drumming to keep him company as it has stopped. He feels he, like everyone else, is waiting for the storm. There is a silence in the air that feels unnatural.

His skin pebbles in the windchill. Then Will senses a presence. He breathes in deeply,  the scent that washes over him is earthy and yet reminds him of spring. He is embarrassed by the sound he makes.

“Oh, they have chosen well.” The voice is smooth and otherworldly, calling to something deep in Will’s soul. Everything about the scent - the voice - screams alpha, and Will knows he has never been in the presence of an alpha quite like this one. His mouth feels dry as he swallows before speaking, “make it quick. The village is waiting for a miracle.”

Laughter and then, “oh I know all about your village. A sacrifice every year of their omegas to bring on the right weather.” A finger strokes through his hair far more carefully than he had imagined. “But you must know that it is nonsense.”

“The elders command it.” Will says, he knows he doesn’t sound convinced at all.

“Sweetling, I know you don’t believe it. But I’ll let you in on a little secret. I do not control the weather.”

Will had known this, of course he had, after all he had noticed that around this time of year the weather would turn. “Why do they send us to you then?” 

“Tradition, and a sense of appeasing the gods.”

“So you’re a god?”

“Not as such. But I’m certainly nothing like your village.”

“No, I don’t imagine you are.” There is a moment of comfortable silence before Will adds, “so what happens to the sacrifices?”

“Well that depends entirely.” The voice sounds delighted. “You can either come with me, or die here.”

Will considers for long moments, “did the others join you?”

“You could be the first.”

That fills Will with a sense of pride. “Nothing ventured, nothing gained.”

He can almost see the smile, as something cuts his bindings. Slowly, he sits up to look at the figure.

His jaw doesn’t quite drop, but it’s close. The alpha in front of him towers over him, deep eyes are watching him closely. Will feels the dry click of his throat as he swallows.

“Not quite what you were expecting from the beast on the hill?” 

“No.” Will admits, “nothing like it at all.”

“But you’ll join me?”

“Yes.”

“Perfect.” The alpha purrs the word and Will flushes at the praise, which doesn’t go unnoticed by the man.

The alpha reaches out a hand before saying, “what is your name sweet thing?”

“I’ll tell you mine if you tell me yours.” Will knows that names have power.

“Very well, my name is Hannibal.” For some reason, Will feels as though it’s the true name he has been given.

“I’m Will.”

“Will. I like it.” Hannibal’s voice curls around his name and Will shivers at the sound.

He takes Hannibal’s hand and the alpha pulls him to his feet off of the altar. “Are you ready to say goodbye to your old life?”

There are a few people that he will miss terribly, namely Beverley and Jack, but for the most part he does not care for the other people in the village. “I will miss my dogs.”

“We can return for them later.” Hannibal says after a beat. Will isn’t sure whether he had sensed his pain at leaving his dogs behind.

“Thank you.” Will says and squeezes Hannibal’s hand.

The alpha smiles at him before pulling him back down the path of the hill Will had walked up only minutes ago.

Hannibal leads him to the edge of the forest before stopping and turning to Will, “this is your last chance to opt for death.”

Will looks at him and then steps forward, “show me everything, Hannibal.”

Hannibal grins, and Will notices the sharp teeth that gleam in the moonlight. The first thing Will can picture is how they would feel dug into his neck and his mating gland. _Isn’t that an image worth exploring,_ he thinks to himself.

He is pulled past the line of the trees and it feels like he has dipped into a pond. A shiver running through him as the line is crossed. Blinking, he realises that the light feels different. Everything looks a little hazy and the colours are brighter than he expected.

“Noticed?” Hannibal says slowly, and Will can hear the mirth in his voice.

“The light is different. Like there’s a piece of fabric covering the sun.”

“You clever boy.” Hannibal purrs and Will flushes a deep red. “It’s the veil between worlds that causes the changes.”

“Between worlds?”

“You asked me if I was a god and I told you I wasn’t quite like that.” Will nods. “I’m not from your world either. A creature perhaps.”

“But one that can walk between worlds?” Will is sure he remembers a name, but the term feels like it’s stuck on the tip of his tongue.

“Yes. So what am I, sweet Will?”

He considers for long moments, a memory floats to the forefront of his mind. One where his father has him tucked up in his lap reading from the book of fairytales.

“Belenus.”

Hannibal smiles widely and squeezes Will’s hands. “Oh they couldn’t have picked better. Truly someone worthy.”

He calls out something in a language that Will cannot understand into the air around him. Suddenly, a figure appears next to him. A young woman with dark hair and ivory skin looks at him with mournful eyes. She hisses a question at Hannibal who answers in the strange language. Hannibal lets go of his hand and says, “go with Abigail, Will. She’ll get you ready for the feast.”

Will is reluctant to leave Hannibal’s side but he follows the woman. She leads him further and further into the forest and into a small clearing.

The clearing is sun dappled and covered in lush grass. Abigail pushes him towards a wood stump and gestures him to sit. Will watches her carefully as she gathers things from various nooks and crannies from different trees. He can’t discern any rhyme or reason as to which tree she approaches but Abigail seems to know exactly what to do. She walks back to him and is carrying different tools in her hands. Once she is stood directly in front of him, Will notices for the first time the scar on her neck that runs across it horizontally. It’s healed,but Will can tell the wound had been deep by the way the skin warps around the scar. His heart aches for Abigail, and there is an anger deep within him that demands blood to be satiated.

Abigail gives him a small smile like she can read his mind before speaking, “it’s not so bad now.”

Will is surprised at the accent in her voice, it sounds so familiar to his own village, nothing of the strangeness that permeates Hannibal’s.

“Where are you from? I thought he said he’d never had an omega join him.”

Abigail laughs and it’s clear like a spring lake. “I didn’t choose him, fate forced his hand. And you know where I’m from Will.”

Relief spreads through him and when he looks closer at Abigail he sees it in the shape of her eyes, and the twinkle of cunning. “You’re Hobbs’ daughter.”

Abigail nods and sighs, “my father couldn’t control his own compulsions any longer. I was about to leave and he couldn’t bear it. So he took me to the hill, intent on sacrificing me. Although he got it all wrong; Hannibal doesn’t respond well to someone spoiling his feasts.” She pauses and looks at Will intently who is watching her with rapt attention. “See, Hannibal always prefers his own kills. But my father had other plans, he slit my throat. The next thing I remember I woke in this clearing.” 

“We had always wondered what had happened to you.” Will says softly. “I remember you used to bring treats for the dogs.”

Abigail smiles ruefully at Will before answering, “I couldn’t return. You see part of me died on that altar and the only way Hannibal could save me was by bringing me here.” A pause. “It’s okay, I know what happened to my father.”

Will can remember the image clearly, Hobbs’ mutilated body had been found in his house, along with the skeletal remains of his prey: girls from surrounding villages.

“I’m sorry, Abigail. Truly I am.”

Abigail only shrugs and approaches him. She starts carefully removing the flowers in his hair. “They picked all of the wrong flowers for Beltane.” She says to herself. Her touch is gentle and Will leans into the touch. Once she has picked out every single one of them, she combs through his hair. “You know I was always jealous of your hair.” Will smiles, and he realises that it’s the first time in a long time. Abigail chuckles and stops combing. The floor around her feet is littered with the flowers, and it looks like they’ve taken root.

“Come on, follow me.” Abigail says after a moment and Will gets up and follows her to a clear pool. “Go on, take a bath, because you quite frankly you stink.” She laughs at Will’s face and then places cloth on the bank, and says “that’s to dry off when you’re done. Just come back when you’re finished, I’ll find you.”

Will nods and watches as she walks into the thicket of trees, seemingly disappearing into thin air. Confused he turns back to the stream and carefully rids himself of the silks before wading into the pool. He is surprised when it is pleasant to step into and only the chill of the air causes his flesh to rise into goosebumps. Grateful for the tepid water he allows himself to stretch, the way he had been bound had caused more soreness than he anticipated. He reaches for the soap on the bank. Just like the one that had been used on him before this one is unscented. After washing Will feels more himself, and he wraps himself in the cloth Abigail had left him before walking back to the clearing. It feels like a load has lifted from his shoulders, and he is able to walk taller than ever before.

Will is warm, even in spite of the light fabric he is wrapped in, and yet his skin is pebbled as though there is a chill in the air around him. At the stump, Abigail is waiting for him with a smile that twinkles in her eyes more than it does on her lips. Wordlessly, she holds out a silk robe, and helps him to secure it tightly. He feels giddy in a way that is almost childish and, when he catches Abigail’s eye, she laughs and he joins her.

Abruptly, he stops when he realises that it’s the first time in years that he has laughed that loudly. The last time he had been this free had been with his dogs, and he is acutely aware of their absence. Abigail squeezes his hand and he knows what she is trying to convey, that they may be with him soon. When she smiles at Will, her eyes shine with tears and unspoken regrets, but there is a hope there too. He returns the squeeze and let’s go of her hand. Abigail gently pushes Will to sit on the stump again. She begins braiding things into his hair, and he can only smell the intermingled scent of various flowers. After long moments of the soothing sensation of someone playing with his hair she steps back. Will sighs happily, the scent of the flowers isn’t overpowering, but somehow makes him think about Hannibal. Instinctively, he knows that the flowers would complement Hannibal’s own scent.

Abigail is holding a mirror in front of him and Will looks at himself for the first time. He almost doesn’t recognise the creature staring back at him. She has braided flowers into his hair, but unlike before; these look far more luscious. He can see the shocking blue of bluebells amongst the more subdued tones of lilacs and violets. His face is flushed and he is sure that his skin is almost glistening.

“Ready?” Abigail asks after long moments.

“As ready as I’ll ever be.”

She takes his hand leading him deeper into the forest.

This time, the clearing she leads him to is larger and there are tables set around a roaring fire. He can make out Hannibal’s imposing figure nearest the fire. He too is wearing a crown of flowers that complement his features.

Will can feel a thudding in his chest as he is led to the place next to Hannibal, who is watching him with a beaming smile. He takes a shuddering breath to calm himself, which has the opposite effect. Hannibal’s thick alpha scent permeates the air around him, and Will feels struck by it. Something is humming low in his chest, threatening to burst forth. He supposes that the nearness of the fire is what is causing the heat he feels. Hannibal inhales almost inaudibly but Will can see the flash of surprise and then open hunger on his face before it stills again.

He isn’t sure if there is a beat of a drum in the clearing or his own heart that he can hear rushing in his ears. After long moments Hannibal stands up and looks to the other creatures seated around him.

“Friends, we gather here for Beltane, as is our custom. Let us feast with joy and then light the fires everywhere.”

Cheers erupt in the group, when Will looks around the unfamiliar faces he can see the adoration on their faces and excitement. He thinks it’s unusual for an alpha to command a group as large as this with so little fear.

Feeling a gaze at the back of his neck, he turns and can see Hannibal watching him. Who merely raises his goblet to Will and says so quietly that only Will can hear. “Do you still want to see everything? Somehow Will finds himself unable to speak, and so he just nods. Hannibal smiles broadly again. “Eat, sweet Will, be merry, and join me after in the fire.”

Hannibal turns the plate in front of him and begins eating with gusto. Will watches for long moments before starting on his own food. It’s delicious but Will is barely paying attention to the flavours, instead he feels outside of himself.

The feast passes in a blur of colours, flavours and smells. Most prominent amongst them is the constant scent of Hannibal next to him. The entire time Will had looked up occasionally to meet Hannibal’s gaze, each time it had sent a flush through Will. He feels almost slick with sweat now, and although he is full with food he also feels empty. At some point the plates are cleared away, and Hannibal stands again, instinctively he stands up too, Hannibal reaches for his hand. He is almost giddy as he is pulled towards the fire.

Hannibal looks at him and whispers, “ready?”

Will can only nod. Then they are running and then leaping.

The fire is startling because it’s almost cold on his heated skin.

When they are through they are alone. Will looks around in confusion. Hannibal is smiling at him. He only has a moment to look around them before Hannibal is pulling him close.

Pressed up against him, he can smell him more closely. He can make out different notes that are indescribable, he inhales deeply.

Hannibal growls above him and Will whimpers.

“Do you know what’s happening?”

“No. Only that the fire has warmed me through and through.”

“Oh sweet one. The fire was hot but don’t you feel it?”

He considers it, but the longer he tries to think the harder it gets. Will isn’t helped by Hannibal’s hand in his hair scratching light circles on his scalp. He is conflicted as to whether to lean into the hand or closer to Hannibal’s heat. _Heat_. It has been such a long time since Will has experienced a heat that he hadn’t recognised it. It’s almost as soon as he acknowledges his heat that he notices the slickness between his thighs. He whimpers at the feeling. There is something in the way that Hannibal is looking at him that feels like he is floating.

“Do you want this?” Hannibal asks after a moment. “You can still walk away.”

Will inhales deeply, his scent is mingling in the air with Hannibal’s. He knows then what they are.

“More than you can imagine.” He manages to say, there is little left except the deep ache inside of him.

Finally, Hannibal pulls him close and kisses him. It’s then that he knows it’s definite. Almost as if they have bonded already, he kisses back happily.

After short moments, Will has to pull away as the ache has grown into a black hole of longing. Hannibal seems to know this and carefully leads him to the floor. It’s soft beneath his back but he barely registers it. All Will can focus on is Hannibal’s hands on him, they burn hot on his flushed skin. The thin barrier of silk feels like too much distance between him and Hannibal. He must have been saying that aloud as Hannibal is ripping the material with his hands in the next moment. Will whines at that, a new wave of slick gushing out of him.

One of Hannibal’s hands dips between his thighs and parts them easily and then lowers his body against Will’s.

The weight atop him is like a balm to his frazzled nerves, but it does nothing to soothe more persistent and pressing need. A need that he knows will be met in due course.

Hannibal kisses him again and scratches lightly against Will’s scalp who keens. He is aware enough that he clamps his mouth shut to stifle the noise. Hannibal growls slightly, and he can feel more slick between his thighs.

“Let me hear every single noise. There is no one here but me, and I want to sup sustenance from your cries.”

Will didn't know that he could feel hotter, but Hannibal’s words have him flushing even deeper. He whimpers and Hannibal grins in response. Slowly, Hannibal begins to nose down the side of his neck and grazes his teeth lightly against Will’s mating gland.

It’s like a switch trips in his mind because suddenly the languid kissing isn’t enough and he is scrambling to get away from Hannibal who rises immediately with a questioning noise. That small action leaves Will momentarily frozen, the still somewhat lucid part of his brain is glad for Hannibal backing away. In fact Hannibal is acting in contrast to every alpha he had heard of from Beverly and the other omegas in the village. The stories had all been about brute force and the phrase “lie back and think of the village.”

This was nothing like the stories, Hannibal seemed to know exactly what he wanted, and when he wanted it. The air against Will’s bare skin feels oppressive, it’s not cooling like he had hoped, instead it seems like his heat is setting the air around him on fire. At a second noise from Hannibal all of Will’s senses focus back on Hannibal and what he was about to do. He twists until he is on his front, shifting until he is presenting. The alpha growls and then blankets Will, who purrs in happiness. Will can feel Hannibal’s cock against the crease of his thigh, for a moment he is sure that there is no way that it will fit.

“You are made just for me.” Hannibal’s voice is right by his ear and Will twists his head slightly and to kiss Hannibal. The kiss is awkward but Will finds himself nearly drunk on Hannibal’s taste.

After a moment Hannibal breaks the kiss and hisses for Will to stay into his ear. The order clears his head so beautifully that Will relaxes into sensation. There are fingers and nails that drag down his shoulders and back, in response he arches further.

He needs Hannibal to be inside of him, to soothe the ache in him, that threatens to consume wholly. It takes Will a moment to realise that the noises in the air are his. Embarrassed by them until Hannibal begins to mutter praise at him.

Fingers dig into his ass, and then trail along his cleft. “Stop teasing.” Will mumbles into his arm and Hannibal laughs. Hands cup his ass before a finger circles his hole. The tip of Hannibal’s finger dips in and Will sighs in happiness. However the finger is withdrawn and Will squirms backwards.

Hannibal places a hand to the back of Will’s neck and his thumb digs into his pressure point. Will can’t help it he stops moving. In spite usually hating a touch to them, something about Hannibal makes him want to lean in to it further.

The tongue at his entrance is surprising, but it sends his arousal spiralling even further. Hannibal growls and Will can feel the way slick is gushing out of him and wetting Hannibal’s chin.

He is panting whilst Hannibal is able to play his body like an instrument. Hannibal draws back and presses a kiss to Will’s shoulder. “Like supping the nectar of the Gods.”

Will is too out of it to formulate a response. He is hovering in a place just before an orgasm, and it’s like Hannibal is holding him there. He is crying out for Hannibal inside him. Hannibal strokes down his shoulders again before pushing into him.

Clarity and bliss are all that he feels. The stretch is just shy of painful but he can feel himself accommodating easily. He comes the moment Hannibal bottoms out, the slightly inflated knot teasing at his rim. Hannibal growls into his ear and thrusts forward, until there is no space between them. Even now Will is thrusting back to drive Hannibal deeper.

He is a creature in pursuit of closer, deeper and harder. Judging by the way that Hannibal begins thrusting enthusiastically he is seeking the exact same thing.

Teeth graze at his mating gland and Hannibal is thickening inside him. He nods frantically, again standing at the precipice of cresting pleasure.

Skin is broken in the same moment that Hannibal forces his knot into Will and they are tied. Will comes again at the sensation of Hannibal coming deep inside him. Each new flood wrenches another orgasm out of him, as they rock against each other.

After long moments Will collapses against the floor and Hannibal gently moves them until they are lying on their sides. He is licking the blood from the mating bite and Will clenches around him and Hannibal growls.

Will has never felt as complete as he does in that moment. Twisting his head he kisses Hannibal as deeply as he can manage. The bond humming happily beneath his skin. Hannibal wraps an arm around him. “You’re mine.”

“Gladly.”

Will preens at the attention, glad for the creature that has chosen him as he chose him.


End file.
